


i know your soul (i'll be your home)

by allskynostars



Category: Riverdale - Fandom
Genre: A fair amount of fluff, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bughead never broke up, F/M, it's Christmas, post 2x05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 14:43:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13192275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allskynostars/pseuds/allskynostars
Summary: And so on today of all days he brings forth the memory of another mid morning, where he sat opposite his beloved in that booth at Pops, the two of them exhausted and just completely worn out by life, when he had made a suggestion. A fleeting thought in the silent dread of knowing where his life was headed. A dream, really."I wish we could just go,"In this reality, that is exactly what they did.//





	i know your soul (i'll be your home)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stark (kingmaker)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingmaker/gifts).



> This is my imagination just running away with me, thinking of all the cliches in Jug and Betty running away and bringing them to life. Just a lil summin summin.
> 
> This is also doubles as my secret santa gift for @strix, hope you enjoy my love! All the fluff, just for you. I aimed to make it a bit seasonal too, it was fitting. <3 (title from keeping your head up by birdy, just that little extra touch for mila)  
>  
> 
> edited myself, so probably riddled with errors. tenses are screwed. excuse them. i need a beta.  
> j.
> 
>  
> 
> -

If anyone were to ask Jughead a trait he believes he does not posses, the first that comes to mind would be selfishness. 

He's never been one to be all about himself, his life has never allowed him the decency. His mind was always preoccupied with other things, like where he would rest his head for that coming nights sleep, or how he would eat if Pop ever decided to shut up shop and stop his free hand outs with the closing doors. If his sister was getting the love from their mother that he never felt. If his father was keeping good on his promise to stay straight in prison. 

Or how he could hope ever repay the Andrews men for all they have ever done for him. The conclusion is that he may never, and that bothers his conscious more than anything. 

So no, he's not a selfish person. Except for when it comes to one, simple thing. 

Although she is not just a thing, and she is certainly not simple. But Betty Cooper loves him, he can see it in her eyes, he can feel it seeping from her fingertips as they grasp the shape of his jaw. She is starlight, she is his own personal sun that brings light and warmth to the darkest, most closed off corners of his heart. Betty is everything he is not. 

And god, he loves her for it. He knows he doesn't deserve her, and he knows that she deserves more than the near broken parts of him that he can give her. Betty deserves more than the world. And yet, he refuses to let her go. So he is selfish when it comes to her, because the thought of having to live a single day in his life without her in it scares him more than almost anything. He is selfish, because as long as she loves him he will keep her. As long as she wants to stay, he won't make her leave. 

And so on today of all days he brings forth the memory of another mid morning, where he sat opposite his beloved in that booth at Pops, the two of them exhausted and just completely worn out by life, when he had made a suggestion. A fleeting thought in the silent dread of knowing where his life was headed. A dream, really. 

_"I wish we could just go," He could hear his own desperation saturate the words as they fell from his lips, "Just hop on the motorcycle and leave Riverdale. Go somewhere where there's no Northside or Southside, or Serpents or Ghoulies."_

_"No.." Betty let out the lightest breath for a laugh, "Crazy moms or black hoods." Her eyes moved from their clasped hands on the table to meet his own, she had on the sweetest hint of a smile, one Jughead would take and keep locked up in the corner of his heart reserved for rainy days. One he could pull from his memory when he needed something to give him hope. "Like Romeo and Juliet, except we live happily ever after instead." Her eyes were glassy as they searched his face for a moment that went on forever in its silence, until her gaze fell to his own and locked. "Let's do it."_

_"What?" He asked, needing a clarification before jumping to a conclusion. Because as far fetched as the idea was, if she wanted to run away with him he would do it. Selfish, so selfish when it came to her. He gave no thought to school, to her parents or their friends or any future consequence this decision could bring._

_"Jug, lets just do it," Her voice echoed his earlier desperation as her fingers tightened around his own. He could feel the pull on his heart, a clarification, a realisation that he could never say no to anything she would ever ask of him. It would always be a yes, an affirmation, all she would have to do is look at him with those doe eyes and he would be putty at her feet. He nodded at her, it was short but firm, and he felt a kind of smile grace his face for the first time in a long time. A smile of hope._

__

And so they had literally climbed on the back of his motorcycle, drove to each of their respective houses and stealthily packed a shared backpack full of necessities, each threw their phones from a bridge into sweet water river, and just left. After chewing through a fair chunk of each of their savings, they found a small dingy one bedroom apartment in a town on the outskirts of Wisconsin. Betty, whose savings has been far more substantial than his own, used near the rest of hers to put down a deposit that Jughead believed was more than the place was even worth. But Betty had just looked at him with those eyes and that sugar sweet smile and said _"It's our place, Juggie,"_ and before he knew it, they were shopping for second hand furniture. 

Jughead had managed to score a job on a work site, thanks to his minuscule but still valid experience with Andrews Construction. And Betty had walked into a diner, not unlike Pops, and told them of her one night only's worth experience in hospitality. She must have smiled at them like only Betty does or something, because she was wearing their sky blue uniform the very next morning. 

It had been over a year, now, since they had left their lives behind. Jughead knew very well that this shouldn't have worked, they should have scurried back to Riverdale with their tales between their legs and begged for forgiveness. But somehow, they managed. They hadn't told anyone except for Archie and Veronica their exact where abouts, as long as everyone knew they were safe that was enough for them. They weren't living any kind of American dream, but just living with Betty safe and sound and _his?_ That would forever be enough for Jughead. 

Today was the eve of their second Christmas on their own, in their own space. Last year had been too much of a whirlwind to bother with any festivities, so they had forgone gifts and any kind of cooking, and just ordered in and spent the day watching Christmas movies from their crappy second hand TV. It was perfect, for him. But he knew Betty wanted more this year. She was used to Christmas with all it's bells and whistles, and he wasn't about to deny her anything. So when he had come home last week and Betty had somehow managed to haul a near 5ft tree up 2 flights of stairs and into their, previously mentioned, teeny tiny apartment on her own Jughead had to bite his tongue. 

-

"Baby, you should have waited for me to come home, I could have helped you," Jughead told her as dropped his work bag and crossed the room to plant a kiss on her cheek. Betty looked out of the corner of her eye at him as she continued to fix the tinsel ever so perfectly, tilting her head before she smirked and answered him. 

"Then you could have had a chance to talk me out of it, and I managed perfectly fine, thank you," she quipped, turning once she was happy with the tinsel to plant a firmer kiss on his mouth. Jughead smiled against her lips, shaking his head lightheartedly. "Am I wrong?" She asked as her hands wrapped around his neck. Jugheads own hands grasped at her waist as he contemplated his answer, but before he could argue that _it would have been to late to say no at the point anyway, the tree was in the building,_ Betty smirked and told him "just as I thought" and then she kissed him again and suddenly Jughead forgot all about the tree and the tinsel and the image of his girlfriend lugging a tree up too many stairs. His mind was flooded with _other_ images of said girlfriend, these ones far less trivial. 

-

 

Even he, Jughead Jones, self confessed Grinch with a very significant lack of seasons greetings or holiday spirit, couldn't stop the complete and utter feeling of contentment at the sight of a tree on Christmas Eve, a _real_ tree, dressed to the nines with lights that reflected in the happy eyes of his one and only as she baked Christmas cookies in their 2 square ft kitchen. As he watched her dance around to All I Want For Christmas, mouthing along the words with a smudge of flour on the tip of her nose, he felt his heart constrict like it normally did whenever he reminded himself that she was too good for him. Far, far too good for him. But he was selfish when it came to Betty Cooper, a fact he knew very well. She was his, and as long as he had her he wouldn't ask what on earth he did in a passed life to deserve her love. He will honour the responsibility of holding her heart, though. He swears it. She will finish school, go to college, all those things that she is destined to do. They aren't lost to her, and definitely not on his watch. 

One day, he tells himself. One day.

He's stood in the doorway of the bedroom and watches her awhile, basking in the warmth that flooded his chest at the sight of her. His eyes took in the whole living room, which had been decorated on a budget but looked so miraculously _Christmassy_ he was overcome with a sense of pride. His girl, always with her ways of making a place feel like home. That was just one of the many reasons why he loved her so much. He took in the two presents under the tree, one rather large box wrapped with such precision it was startlingly obvious who wrapped what as it sat next to his gift for her. And he had tried, to his own credit. He figured it should have been easy to wrap; it wasn't. Underneath the tartan paper was a book, a very special first edition from Betty's favourite author. Jughead had used half his Christmas bonus from work just to get it, even though they really need the money, but he wanted to surprise her. (Selfish, again, for her. Only for her.) He wanted that gift for her, one that said _here, this is for you, I know you. I listen. I love you._ His messy scribe on the card that read _to my beloved,_ because appropriately, that is exactly what Betty Cooper is.

His eyes traveled back across the room to watch her again, she had just placed the cookies into the over and set the timer when she did this little twirl that may or may not have caused Jugheads throat to swell so much with the realisation that it wasn't what she did that made a place home, it was just _her,_ that he just had to touch her. He sauntered into the kitchen in less than 3 steps and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, pulling her against his chest tightly. Her surprised giggle echoed through his ears and, god, he wanted that sound on repeat for the rest of his life. Of course there were other sounds she made that he could record, too, like the one she was currently making as he kissed that particular spot behind her ear. 

"Juggie," It came out as a whisper, a slight plead to stop but not stop, evident in the way her neck tilted ever so slightly back to give him better access. "I was just about to prep the turkey for tomorrow," another failed attempt at a plea for him to stop. And as much as he wanted to continue his travels down her neck, across her chest, he needed his mouth to speak.

"One of these days, I'm going to give you everything," Jughead whispered lowly into the neck, his lips barely brushing against her skin, "every single thing, Betty Cooper." He felt her smile, even though he couldn't see it, he could sense the shift in the air, the tightening of her hands on his arms as they rest around her waist. 

"You are everything, Jug," she whispered back. "Just give me you." 

Jughead closed his eyes and placed feather-light kisses along the line of her shoulder. "You have me, now and always."

"Mm, good," Betty muttered, tapping his arms before ducking out of his embrace with mischievous smirk, "that means that this can wait. You wanna help wash the veges?" 

"Here I am, pouring my heart out to you, and you want me to wash vegetables?" He asked jokingly, a faux look of shock on his face. Betty rolled her eyes at him before placing a sweet kiss to his cheek. 

"Romance is dead, babe." It was a fleeting moment, but as Betty handed Jughead a vegetable peeler and a plastic bowl for the scraps, something so domestic, he knew he would never regret that day they just got up from Pops and left their lives behind. How could he? This was so much more than he ever could have hoped for himself, and as silly as it may look while he's peeling potatoes, the grin that graces his mouth may be permanently etched onto his face now. 

It is, in fact, still gracing his face when he wakes up the next morning with Betty straddling his lap, and stays as she brings him a pancake breakfast with coffee in bed, and after as he grabs their presents from under the tree and brings them back to the room. It was one present for each, that was the deal. Although he hadn't realised how heavy her gift to him was until he picked it up and brought it to the room. He placed her gift in front of her and sat next to Betty where she was cross legged in the middle of the bed. 

"Betty, this is really heavy babe,"Jughead observed, weighing the present in his hands. She just smiles at him with a gesture of her head to open it, but he shakes his own says "ladies first." 

"Okay," the word came out high pitched with excitement, and Jughead suddenly understands that old saying 'it is better to give than to receive' like never before. As she slowly, and ever so carefully (painfully), pulls on the tape tidily and unwraps the present, Jugheads eyes are trained on her face to watch her reaction. Her eyes grew another size, a concept he wasn't sure was possible and the smile that followed melts his heart. Betty ran a single finger across the cover, a look that could only be described as awe on her face.

"It's a first edition, signed," he blurted. It was all too exciting, he didn't have the patience to wait for her to open the cover. 

"Jug," the nickname came out caught in a sob, and that's when he noticed the tears yet to fall from her eyes reflected in the morning light. His heart sunk.

"Is it, is it okay? I wanted to get you something special, but if there is something else you want or need we can probably just sell it on ebay, or -" his words are suddenly lost into Betty's mouth as she presses it hard against his own to shut him up. He can definitely feel tears on her cheeks now, and he raises a hand to wipe them as she pulls away from him.

"Shut up, I love it Juggie," she looks at him then, really looks at him, and he knows the gift hit the exact mark he wanted. The sentiments he meant the book to read are written all over her face, _you know me, you love me._ "This is the best gift, thank you so much." 

Jughead leans over and plants a firm kiss against her forehead. "You're so welcome, baby." 

"Okay," Betty shifts in her seat and hugs her new possession close to her chest. She gestured to his gift yet again. "Your turn!" He smiled at her, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. He picks the box up a shook it a little.

"Hmm, a little rattle," winding Betty up was one of his favourite past times. His remark earned him a slap on his thigh and an eye roll. 

"Open the box, Jug!" Betty all but yelled. Jughead put his hands up in defense. 

"Okay, okay," he was definitely excited, but the speed at which his heart raced when he lifted the lid off the box could have broken a record. He looked back inside the box, then back at Betty enough times to make him dizzy. 

"You like?" She had her bottom lip pulled between her teeth, and he could tell there was a slight nervous hint to her gaze. 

"Betty, this is a vintage Underwood," it came out raised at the end like a question more than an answer, and she just nodded her head in agreement. "Where did you even find this? How? Babe, oh my god." This may well be the fist time Jughead has even uttered that phrase, he realised, but there's really no words for how he felt as he lifted the typewriter from it's box and set it on his lap. His fingers traced the keys and along the frame, taking it in, before he placed it on the bedside table and his fingers grasped at Betty's chin instead. "Best," he spoke each word between kisses, "christmas," and another, "ever." Betty laughed into his mouth and pulled him close to her with arms around his neck. 

"You haven't even eaten lunch yet, Jug, that's a pretty strong statement to make this early in the game." 

He nuzzled his nose against hers, "I eat your food every day, I know it's going to be amazing. Everything you do is amazing." 

"Shut up, you," a telltale blush formed on the peaks of her cheeks before she hid her head in the crook of his neck. Jughead could feel her breath against his skin as he raised a hand to run through her hair, scratching at her scalp. "Mm, keep doing that." 

"I mean it, you are something else, Elizabeth Cooper. Thank you for running away with me," his voice is soft, and not just because it's the morning. It's just the lilt his voice takes when he's being genuine with her. And because Betty knows this, she pulls away from his neck and kisses him softly.

"I would do it again, in every lifetime," there's a nod of her head as she answers, and her voice is a whisper, but god he believes her. So he smiles his sunday best and kisses her nose. 

"I love you, so much." And he will continue too, for as long as his heart beats in his chest.

 

 

 

If every Christmas is as good as this one, Jughead thinks to himself, he may have to consider scrapping his humbug persona. 

 

fin.


End file.
